


Sincerely Yours

by manderelee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manderelee/pseuds/manderelee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a wicked bout of frustration, Ling poses as a secret admirer for Lan Fan to find out exactly how she feels about him without the impositions of their rank getting in the way. But Ling finds out that a simple correspondence under a pseudonym can quickly spin out of his control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I don't know why I'm doing this, to be honest. I have so many LingFan projects at the moment, I really can't afford to start on a new one.
> 
> And yet here I am.
> 
> I was in the midst of writing a companion piece to The Heirloom Match, but it was just too somber. I didn't like where it was heading. And then I suddenly got this fun, comedic idea, and I couldn't resist just starting it.

When he was twelve, Ling's mother took him aside and gave him a very firm talk.

“Lan Fan is your bodyguard,” she told him, looking him deeply in the eyes the way she did when she wasn't joking around, when she wanted to be taken seriously enough. It scared him sometimes, because his mother was often cheerful, and the few times she sombered were during matters of life and death. “She has sworn to protect you. You are her _prince_ , and it is her duty to _serve_ you. Do you realize what that means?”

Ling felt uncomfortable under his mother's unyielding grip and even more unyielding gaze. His mind reeled with tragic possibilities of what Lan Fan's job entailed.

“Uhm, uhm... it means she will die?”

His mother gave a quick shake of her head, indicating that it wasn't the answer she was looking for. “It means she cannot say no to you.”

“Huh?”

“She can't say no.”

“That's ridiculous!” Ling protested. “She says no to me all the time! Like that time I wanted to sneak in the kitchens before the festival but she said we couldn't and we shouldn't be stealing food. She always disagrees with my ideas, you know!”

His Ma shook her head again, sighing softly. “One day, you will see that your playful suggestions will become steadfast orders, and you will force Lan Fan to choose between loyalty and honour. It's easy to say no to you now when you are a child, but you'll find that it would not be that way once you have a crown on your head.”

Ling's mouth tugged into a smile. “You really think I will wear the crown someday?”

She looked back at him and patted the top of his head, exactly where a crown might sit eventually. “You know that I really believe so, my son. And when you do, I hope you will be something that none of the other Emperors have ever been.”

“Ooh, what's that?”

“Great,” she answered. “Great and _kind.”_

-o-

Ling observed in squeamish silence as the alkahestrist stitched Lan Fan's thigh, watching the swollen, red flesh come together with the black thread. Already eighteen, already an emperor, and he still didn't know if he could become accustomed to watching his friend get patched up like an old quilt ragdoll. His gaze slid down her leg, finding a mosaic of bruises and old scars, and his mind could not help but map each of the abrasions to the memories from where they came. He remembered how she got them, every single one.

“There you go, my girl,” the alkahestrist said, tying the final knot on the stitches. She cut the thread with a quick snip, and gathered her belongings. “It's not a bad wound, but I will give you some alchemy-enhanced ointment to help speed up the healing process, so you can be bouncing on that leg in no time!” the nice, old woman said. She opened her kit, and handed Lan Fan a porcelain jar.

When the alkahestrist had left, Ling remained where he was standing. Lan Fan avoided his gaze. She knew she was in trouble.

“Why didn't you tell me the wound was infected?” he asked, at length.

She sighed, toying with the stopper on the jar, and shrugged in response. “I didn't need to bother you with such things, your Imperial Majesty.”

It had been a week since the turmoil at the border of the badlands. He thought Lan Fan's injuries had been attended to properly, but during the chaos she must have had less attention than she'd needed.

He realized the dilemma she faced. On one hand, keeping herself in top shape was one of her most important responsibilities, considering she was his last line of defense. And on the other, although battle scars were very much glorified among bodyguards and warriors, frequent injury suggested a certain lack of finesse and agility. Confessing that she was hurt yet again might spur the sharp ears and eager tongues of the people at court. And the ongoing turbulence surrounding his reign definitely did not help. He had been Emperor for three years. It was both an accomplishment and an underachievement. Attempts to shove his royal rump out of the throne would not cease for many years, and that meant it was not going to be peaches and cream for Lan Fan any time soon. Already, there were some who questioned her qualifications as his High Guard.

Ling looked her over, studying her lethargic movements as she began to apply the ointment on the sealed wound. Her face was white and pasty, her hair matted on her forehead and neck with sweat. She looked terrible, and Ling felt the now familiar pang of guilt when he realized it had been a long, _long_ time since he'd seen her look hale.

“That's how many times now? Five? Six? The first time, you didn't mention you had pneumonia, and we only found out when your cousin couldn't wake you from sleep. And you remember when your automail hadn't been attached properly? The metal links to your nerves rusted from exposure and you almost contracted tetanus!” He wished she wouldn't hide her afflictions. “What were you thinking? What _are_ you thinking?”

But she just sat there silently.

Ling exhaled in frustration, and turned around. Finally, after he made up his mind, he faced her again. “Maybe you should take a lieu week. Or two.” That got her attention. She looked up, not directly into his eyes, but close enough.

“I will be alright, your Majesty!” she exclaimed. “I will rest tonight, and I can come back tomorrow morning with renewed vigour!”

“No, Lan Fan,” Ling stated sternly, and he didn't need to explicitly claim it was an order for her to understand she had little choice in the matter. He remembered how long ago, years and years ago, it would have been much easier for her to question his decisions, to insist that it was for his own good that they abandon his silly little plans, because while he was quite a brilliant boy when it came to games and pranks, he was less so in the art of self-preservation. And it was Lan Fan's duty to push it to the top of his list, to pull it out of his blind spots.

It was just difficult when nowadays _his_ self-preservation meant _her_ peril.

He sat beside her slowly. Quietly, he asked, “Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?”

“It is not my place to prioritize my well-being over yours,” she answered. Her exhaustion was now more pronounced with her dejection at being dismissed for the next fortnight.

“Well, think of it this way,” he said, brushing her hair from her damp forehead. “If you're not in good shape to protect me, then I'm sorta kinda in danger too, don't you think?”

She didn't answer. He knew that being discharged was considered unfavourable by most, and for someone as hell-bent on fulfilling her duty as Lan Fan was, it must be devastating.

“I'm not angry, you know,” he reassured her. “I just want you to rest.”

Lan Fan looked so deflated, he almost decided to shorten her lieu. He couldn't fathom how anyone could find enjoyment in getting beaten up, but it was almost as if she considered herself a failure if she was taking a break. Ling didn't know for sure. And perhaps that was what grated at him. That despite the fact that Lan Fan had spent more time at his side than anyone else in the past three years, than even she had spent with him during their childhood, he knew her less than he used to when they were burgeoning youths.

“That's alright, isn't it?” he prodded.

Listlessly, she responded, “Yes, your Majesty.”

Ling sighed, knowing that although Lan Fan was not a liar, she had learned to conceal many truths from him as well. It was clear that it wasn't alright for her. Her yes was not an answer to his question, but a memorized declaration of obedience.

Impulsively, he sat closer to her, taking her automail hand and laying his head on her shoulders. Once upon a time, the gesture was second-nature to him and so was her response of flailing with embarrassment. Then he would tell her nobody was looking. Then she would distract him with food. And it was a routine they had, warm and familiar. Until they grew up. Now she didn't push him away, but sat there rigidly, coldly.

It was worse.

“Lan Fan...” he began.

“Yes, your Majesty?”

He tried to collect his thoughts. There were so many questions. _What happened_? Why were they not the way they had been? Where was their easy friendship? Why did she replace it with silence and shadows? Why was it that even though he had rarely been without her by his side, he felt lonelier than ever?

He was at the very top of the social ladder, and he found the winds of power too cool all the way up there.

Finally, he spoke. “Do you like being my bodyguard?”

She shifted. “It is the greatest honour I could ever hope for.”

He felt not a drop of lie, but he could not bring himself to accept her answer comfortably. He was the ruler of Xing. He was the Emperor. For her to say otherwise, to say anything less, would equal to treason. There was simply nothing else she could have said.

Ling lifted his head from her shoulder and stood up.

He knew what happened. He knew why their warm camaraderie morphed into awkward greetings and averted gazes.

Words were no longer sufficient for them. Not when his crown and his title and honorifics insisted on wedging themselves in between, rendering truth and meaning useless.

-o-

Ling spent the next week whining to his mother (only occasionally) and binging on food (more frequently). The bodyguard assigned to him was Lan Fan's cousin, her second in line when it came to the roster of appointed bodyguards. Like her, the young man had a knack for evading the spoken word or any kind of sound in general.

Presently, Ling was having troubles keeping his lids open and his belly from rumbling – quite difficult to do at the same time, surprisingly – in the midst of an important assembly. The various Masters of the court were engaged in a meeting with him, as they discussed a great many topics from the trade with Amestris, to the flooded towns at the coasts, to the dissent in the badlands two weeks before. In front of him was a rather homely looking pile of letters written by the leader of the rebellion. It was the evidence they needed to arrest the mastermind and convict him of treason.

It was strange. Even though the letters had been coded, it was amazing to see how much one could convey in them. An entire rebellious faction had taken root all in a span of five pages.

Ling was lazily browsing through them, filtering out the sounds of bickering among the men and women in the room, when his mind caught on a wisp of an idea.

A letter.

From someone unknown.

Many of those involved in the guerrilla hadn't known who the real initiator was. But they had read his letters and believed in them. Some had died for this nameless ghost, because despite everything else, the message in the letters had meant something to them.

Maybe Ling could –

“Your Majesty?” someone called. “Your Majesty?”

Ling shook himself from his reverie. “Huh? What is it?”

“We were wondering what you thought about the idea of housing the flood victims in the Dao hospices?” one of the men asked.

“Go for it,” Ling answered him, and he heard the satisfied grunts of some of the officials in the room. But the man stuttered and began to protest.

“B-but, your Majesty! Those hospices are reserved for the Dao! They are supported by Dao taxes! My peoples would not appreciate having their taxes go to the Yoon peoples.”

“Tell them I acknowledge their sacrifice and willingness to help during such dire times,” Ling answered. He had to admit, sometimes the easiest part about being the Emperor was that even something as small as his notice or acknowledgment was considered a boon by his people. “The entire country will hear of their honourable generosity.”

He left it at that, trying to rush out of the room with as much inconspicuousness as possible. He headed straight for his private chamber, where he settled himself at his desk, took out a blank piece of paper and a pen.

The page stared enticingly back at him.

If he could don a name that was not his, he would elicit a more honest response from Lan Fan, a response that even he would no longer be able to doubt. She would not know that she was speaking to the Emperor. She no longer had the need to embellish her words with flattery and obedience.

If he could get this right, maybe... maybe they could be friends again.

-o-

Lan Fan finished her evening stretches. She was getting ready for bed, eagerly awaiting the next day when she would have only four more days before getting back to duty. She had been feeling much refreshed after a few days of rest, and found the remaining time off rather boring and unnecessary. Still, she could not disobey the Emperor, so she spent her time doing chores that she had put off for quite a while. Now her apartments were clean (thought she really could not understand why the Emperor had given her such a big one), her automail was polished and the blades sharpened, and her uniform was mended. She was itching to get back to work.

A servant came to take away her dinner utensils. Lan Fan thanked the young woman kindly, but before she exited, she pulled out an envelope.

“I found this by your door,” the maid said, handing it to Lan Fan.

Lan Fan took it, frowning when she realized it did not bear the name of the writer. When the maid had gone, Lan Fan pulled out the sheet from inside and unfolded it. She read the contents.

_Dear High Guard,_

_Ah, perhaps I should refrain from calling you 'dear.' It is not my place, is it? In any case, I understand if you are curious about the nature of this letter, and maybe even about me._

_Well, here goes. I suppose I should begin by saying that I am no one of great importance. And should you decide to stop reading now, I will understand. Hence I choose to confess it early on, so I do not risk wasting your time. I only write to you because I wish to say that I admire you very much. I hope that is not creepy. If it is, forgive me. I'll let you know that I do not often make the habit of being creepy. At least not frequently, although I have been told by some acquaintances that my eating habits do happen to be, at certain times, creepy._

_I am fortunate enough to say that I witnessed your great fighting prowess at the border of the badlands some weeks ago, and that I have your brave and headstrong efforts to thank for my life. I do not know if the guards of the Emperor often receive mail where they are praised for the honest and awe-inspiring work that they do. If not, I find it extremely unfortunate, and I hope I am mitigating that misfortune even just a little bit. High Guard, I wish to thank you for saving my life. I think of you every day and I remember how lucky I am._

_Sincerely Yours_

_P.S. If you wish to respond to me, I will look for a letter in the stone alcove by the hibiscus plants in the Eastern Wing. I will wait for three days, and if you have not responded, I will send you another letter, just in case you did not receive this first one. And if I do not receive a response from you afterward, then I will take that to mean you are not interested in corresponding. Have a lovely day._

Lan Fan blinked and reread the letter. Then she blinked again and shook her head.

Well, this was interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for not updating any sooner, but I finished The Heist and took a break. As I said in my last author's note in The Heist, I am also starting my own personal project, and so I started a bit of research for that. Coming back to this story, however, I realized that I sort of lost the thread of the story and had to start over again based on the first chapter I already wrote. Not to worry, I think I still have a gist of the idea that prompted this fanfiction.

Lan Fan clutched the letter, unsure of what to make of it. At first, she was overcome with a sense of confusion and denial. A person from the border of the badlands? Writing a letter to _her,_ simply to thank her for merely doing what she was paid to do? It was a little far-fetched. Nobody ever thanked the emperor's guards. Besides, should anyone find themselves beholden to a saviour, they should address their gratitude to the emperor himself. After all, how many emperors had instructed their own bodyguards and warriors to protect other people rather than himself? Possibly only half of the emperors to ever grace the Imperial records.

No, no. If anyone deserved thanks, it would be Emperor Ling. This person, although he meant well, was probably just a little overcome with emotions. Lan Fan knew what it felt like to owe someone her life. She could sympathize. But she also knew that the gratitude was misplaced.

She was about to head over to her small wooden desk at the corner of her room, intending to answer the person's letter, when another thought occurred to her – one that sent a new wave of overpowering emotions through her again.

Perhaps this was nothing but a _prank._

A carefully crafted prank to emphasize her state of dismissal!

The thought made little sense to her, but so did the petty court intrigue that peppered the palace. All she knew was that there were people malicious enough to use her lieu as a pointed insult to her abilities at protecting the king. This letter could be a manifestation of that!

Lan Fan huffed with indignation, crumpling the letter in her hand. Well... better jokes had been performed under her watch than a seemingly innocuous letter from a _secret admirer._ Surely, she thought, nobody would have thought that a prank like this could get the better of her.

Instead of completing her track to her desk, she turned around towards the waste bin by her door. She casually dropped the letter in it, and only when she was about to head back to her bed did another thought stop her.

What if it was a trap? The skirmish in the badlands had been pacified only recently even though the rebels' leader had already been captured. But there was still a lingering animosity among the people. What if they were planning yet another uprising against the capital? And this was their way of trying to prod for more information? Didn't the emperor mention that the mastermind behind the last attack had supposedly mobilized it through the means of letters? And now what if they were trying to glean for important information about the emperor by targeting _her_ , the closest one to him?

Lan Fan spun back around and lunged for the waste bin, her hand closing around the crumpled piece of paper. She may be paranoid, but if it meant saving the king's life, then she couldn't afford to be careless. Whatever _this_ thing was, it could be a vital piece of a brewing political intrigue, and she would be a fool to just discard it. Tomorrow, she would present it to the king and ask what he thought.

She unfolded the ball of paper, trying to smooth out the creases. Strange that two paragraphs of words could make such a wide range of thoughts zip through her head. But nothing was safe anymore. The king was practically a walking-talking "Kill Me" sign these days, and she couldn't afford to be any less vigilant than she was now, especially when her lieu had sparked a new flare of rumours that she was deteriorating. She wasn't as well versed in the intricacies of politics as Emperor Ling was, so she knew that he would know more about what to do with this strange, mysterious letter.

-o-

Ling was yawning by the time the last supplicant had left, even though it wasn't noon yet. In his private meeting room, he granted audience to commoners who wanted to request something without the bustles of the courtroom where nobles were free to watch and gossip. Jung-woo, Lan Fan's cousin, stood among the shadows of the curtains, watching the coming and going of the peasants with a keen eye. As soon as the last man disappeared behind the door escorted by a steward, Ling leaned back against his chair and heaved a sigh. He took the heavy gilded crown off his head, placed it on top of his desk and rubbed his aching temples. He was about to gather his papers up to head for the dining room, when the steward knocked shyly against his door.

"Your Imperial Majesty," the old, gangly man said. "There is another supplicant who wishes to see you. Should I tell her to come back tomorrow?"

Ling hastily grabbed for the crown he'd had discarded, and settled it clumsily over his braided hair. Brushing aside the bangs that blocked his view, he straightened in his seat to answer the steward. "No, no, let her in. I might as well see to her. My food can wait, but I doubt it is the same case for everyone else."

The person who entered, however, was no peasant nor commoner. The steward had invited in Lan Fan. She was out of her uniform, and she came with her head bowed in deference. It took a while for Ling to shake off his surprise. Lan Fan's visit was unexpected. As was the strong tug of pleasure he received from it.

"What brings you here?" he asked, his lips tugging into a small smile.

She straightened from her bow, and held out a piece of envelope to him. Ling's heart almost stopped, as his eyes surveyed the familiar wrappings of the letter he'd sent her only yesterday. The lines of the calligraphy for her name were written in a forced slanted penmanship that he'd hoped would not resemble his own. His heart thudded in his chest, wondering if she had discovered it was him who wrote it.

"I received this mysterious letter last night, your Majesty," Lan Fan replied. "I believe it would be best if your Majesty reads it to ensure there is no trace of duplicity in it."

Ling almost choked. Written in that letter was his last desperate attempt to salvage their friendship, and she was suspicious of it!

Oh Lan Fan... but he supposed it was in her nature to be like that. He could only shake his head with an exasperated fondness, but stopped himself before she saw his reaction. Clearing his throat, he had no choice but to reach for the letter from her outstretched hand. He peeled the envelope away and read the contents of the letter, which he'd somehow memorized by now considering the number of times he went over it before sending it the previous night.

Slowly, he gave it back to her, trying his best to assume a nonchalant expression. "Well, it doesn't seem like it's dangerous. Poor guy simply wants to thank you for saving his life."

Lan Fan blinked owlishly at the letter. "I see... but this part here, where he admits he's from the village on the border of the badlands, do you not find that worrisome?"

Ling was taken aback. "Why would I?"

A small blush crept over her cheeks. She was clearly flustered. "Oh! See, I just thought it was odd that someone would try to contact me as soon as the rebels in the badlands have been captured. Almost as if they're trying desperately to fish for information."

"Oh... is that what you think?" he replied, trying to shield his voice from the anxiety that suddenly gripped him.

She gasped and waved her hands in front of her in defense. "I mean it's certainly plausible! Especially with the way he introduced himself! 'I am no one of great importance,' he says. But would someone not important really highlight that part? My gut feeling tells me that whoever wrote this letter truly is important in one way or another, and yet he somehow wants to appear harmless."

Ling gulped, finally realizing how sharp Lan Fan's intuition really was – the very instincts that she used to keep him safe may now also keep him from executing even the most subtle form of communication with her that he could think of.

Damn, why was Lan Fan so smart?

He had to tread carefully here. He didn't want to end up insinuating that she should answer the letter, because then she would only be doing it not of her own free will, but because she thought that he wanted her to. No, he had to pacify her doubts only enough to give her the choice to answer. He couldn't steer her one way or the other.

"The village at the border housed over two hundred people," he began cautiously. "And when the rebels decided to pounce, it was you who kept the first wave back from penetrating the village, and then you helped lead them away from it. Isn't it possible that one of the two hundred really owed their life to you and felt grateful?"

He watched as Lan Fan listened to his explanation, and the knot of worry between her brows eased as she seemed to contemplate his words. "It's possible, your Majesty. I guess it's only difficult for me to believe that someone would have thought to thank _me_ personally, and even to solicit a response..."

Ling lifted one shoulder in a mild shrug. "Some people have the strange audacity to approach their betters."

The pink dusting on her cheeks returned. "Ah, I wouldn't call myself their better," she mumbled humbly.

Ling smiled at her. "I don't get any malicious vibes from the letter. Do with it as you please."

Lan Fan bowed once, seemingly appeased by his judgment. Ling tucked his uncharacteristically sweaty hands in his pockets, and watched as she allowed herself to be escorted out of his room. When she was gone, he let out a sigh of relief. What a close call! His plan could have been over before it even really began!

Taking a few moments to collect himself, Ling gathered up his things slowly. Yesterday when he came up with the idea of the letter, he thought it was ingenious in its simplicity! And yet now only a day later, there were already some unexpected developments. Ah well, he would wait and see how things turned out. He couldn't let this little hiccup in his plan prevent him from going through with it, especially if it actually worked. If Lan Fan began to open up to him through those letters, he would consider it a magnanimous success, worth all the stress in the world.

-o-

Lan Fan decided to wait for the person's second letter, the one he said he would write just in case the first one did not reach her. She needed to get a better sense of him. The king didn't feel anything sinister, but situations concerning people she didn't know still warranted caution, and it was her duty to exercise it.

It was not that she did not trust her lord. No, no! She trusted him with everything she had. It was this _other_ person she couldn't trust. She just couldn't shake off the feeling that he wasn't who he seemed to be.

In any case, should the second letter reveal anything that did not align with what had already been established in the first letter, well then Lan Fan would have her answer once and for all.

Two more days passed without any incidence. Lan Fan found that waiting to get back to her duty was somehow more bearable when she was also waiting for something else. There was one more day of her lieu left, but the letter was due to come tonight.

An hour after dinner, the servant who was assigned to clean her room brought her the new letter. She waited until she was alone in the safety of her closed chambers, before opening it and reading it.

 _Dear High Guard_ ,

_I wrote a letter to you three days ago, but I am afraid that you might not have received it. I sincerely hope my boldness does not alarm you. I am just a simple young man whose life you have saved in the skirmishes along the badlands' border almost two weeks before. I wish to take this opportunity, in the form of a letter, to thank you with all my heart for the great service you have done me._

_In my previous letter, I requested that you kindly respond to me to let me know that my letter has arrived safely in your hands. However, I do understand if you do not wish to reciprocate the correspondence – I shall merely have to trust in whatever good fortune I have that you've come to know of my deep gratitude._

_Once again, thank you._

_Sincerely Yours_

_P.S. I know I said you didn't have to write back, but it would make my day week if you did. (Pretty please?)_

Alright. That did it. Lan Fan folded the letter back neatly, and headed straight to her desk, where a short stack of paper rested beside a stone inkwell. This second letter barely gave her any additional insight into this mysterious writer. For all she knew, he could still be a prankster, a rebel, or simply insane! It was clear she was not going to get answers to the questions she had, unless she specifically asked for them.

And that was what she intended to do.

 _Hello,_ she began to write. She contemplated for a second what she ought to call him, and felt a little spark of irritation when she realized that his letters weren't even signed with a name or any other form of appellation. And so, she left the salutation at that, and simply went straight to the bulk of her letter.

_Who are you really and what do you want? If all you wish to do is thank me, then I assure you you have done it twice already. I don't know what good any further correspondence between us would do, and it makes me just a little wary that you are requesting it..._

-o-

_...If you really are just a peasant from the border of the badlands, then how can you read and write? Why are you so afraid to reveal your name? More importantly, if you live by the border, how are you able to get your letters to me quickly? Did you move to the capital? Are you sending mail by alchemy? I find this entire business highly suspect!_

No kidding, Ling gulped.

 _How do you even have access to the garden in the East Wing of the palace?_ Ling continued to read. _From the details of both your letters, it seems more to me that you are a young noble prone to the urges of a good joke with too much time on his hands. Either that, or you have an accomplice with access to the palace._

_I will, however, give you the benefit of the doubt at the moment. Let's say you are a nice, young man from the border, and you feel indebted to me because I saved you. Well, you are very much welcome. I am relieved and humbled to hear that my service to my master and my clan has benefited others as well. Thank you for letting me know. As a token, here's my advice to you:_

_The atmosphere of the court is treacherous and hostile. In some ways, it is not that different from the badlands you say you are from. And while your land may be vulnerable to bandits and rebels, the court is vulnerable to intrigue and lies. So as you can see, I have every real reason to find your letters threatening to the safety and peace I work so hard to maintain around my lord._

_And so, my nameless thanker, I shall leave you with the opportunity to explain yourself._

_The High Guard_

It took a few seconds for the numbness in Ling's mind to dissipate before he was able to feel the rush of grave disappointment. It hit him so hard all he could do was throw himself face down on his bed. Even the soft, supple sheets could not muffle entirely the haggard wail that pushed its way out of his mouth.

This was like getting hate mail! Even worse!

What happened? He thought he'd already addressed Lan Fan's concerns when she went to him the other day. Hence he was so elated when he had sneaked out into the gardens just a moment ago, and found a letter in the stone recess by the hibiscus flowers – a letter that emerged mere hours after he'd sent his own. She'd responded so quickly, that he had thought he would find her an enthusiastic and willing pen pal.

But the only enthusiasm she'd shown here was in grilling him.

Ling allowed himself the luxury of a long, pained groan. Just to get the frustration out.

It didn't mean he was going to give up.

Pushing himself from his bed, he looked at the letter again. At the very bottom, she said she wanted him to explain. She didn't say that she wanted him to stop writing to her. As long as the chance wasn't closed to him, he had to continue trying.

If an explanation was what she wanted, then that was what he was going to give her. He went to the small table he kept by his bed, and began scribbling.

 _Dear High Guard_ ,

_I understand that there has been a grave misunderstanding. I sincerely apologize! In my haste to deliver my message, I have been reckless in failing to provide a good impression of myself._

_It is true that I met you at the border in the East. But I do not live there. I am a traveling scribe who makes his penny by assisting those who are illiterate. Sometimes I am hired to write formal requests to officials and then to read their responses back to the villagers. I travel all over Xing doing this. And yes, I am now in back in the capital for only a few days. I have returned to ensure that my ailing father and my aging mother are comfortable._

_I am truly sorry that I have aggrieved you when I decided not to include my name. As someone whose standing is not so great, I had assumed my name did not matter. Many officials to whom I address the peasants' letters never wished to know who was writing, only the location of the village and perhaps the clans who are associated. But never personal names. I can see now that my assumption was wrong. And that somehow has increased my opinion of you even more! How humble and kind you are for asking my name!_

Ling paused, contemplating how he should address the part of her letter that talked about the court. A traveling scribe might not know too much about the workings of the court, but he could not appear to be too ignorant either. After all, he'd already confessed that he read and wrote letters to officials, and so as a liaison between peasants and those of higher rank, he should have at least some insight about the most basic function of the court. In the end, he decided instead to just comment on the emotional baggage.

_Oh dear, I did not realize how harrowing it must be to live in a place where friends are few and foes are plenty. And not to know which from which makes it even worse! I understand that no words of mine could ever pacify your doubts, and I also don't have the right to ask you to trust me completely. The safety and the well-being of the emperor rests on your vigilance, and what a lucky man he must be. Still, I'll have you know that in me, you will find a friend._

_Sincerely Yours_

Ling racked his brain for a name that he could use. After some deliberation, he settled for the simplest, most inconspicuous name he could think of.

_Xiǎo Fángzi, the traveling scribe_

_P.S. I will soon begin my journey again to a village in the west. I will tell my friend who serves in the palace kitchens to look for your response in the East Garden. And she will also put my subsequent letters there where you can find them. I hope I did not endanger you by having my letters sent to you directly these past few times!_

Ling exhaled, then re-read his letter several times. It was now past midnight. He entertained the thought of getting the letter delivered to Lan Fan by morning, but quickly changed his mind. He'd been quite stealthy in dropping the past letters among the things to be delivered to Lan Fan without it being traced back to him, but it was much better if he could eliminate the possibility of having a go-betweener at all. This one would be the last letter to arrive in her hands through a servant, and hopefully if Lan Fan decided she'd like to continue writing to him, he can take the letter himself from the garden.

Besides, if he sent it now, it would only add to her suspicion. For a scribe to have been able to obtain her letter and write back in a matter of hours, that would speak volumes. Not the least of which was that he was desperate enough to look so soon after sending his letter. Eh... there was no helping it. No matter how impatient he felt, Ling would just have to wait a few days.

-o-

The day Lan Fan finally resumed her post, it was like slipping back into a comfortable set of clothes that fit her perfectly. Behind her mask, she couldn't help but smile a little.

But though she was refreshed and happy to be back, sometimes she found her mind wandering to the enigmatic writer of her letters. Especially because in the meeting in which she was currently guarding the emperor, the case of the badland rebels was yet again the topic being discussed. She listened intently as they debated the whereabouts of the other rebels.

"I don't know what's with all this dilly-dallying," barked one clan representative. "We should have sacked the entire village a week ago! And yet here we are, sitting around and talking about where the rebels might be, instead of actually sniffing them out!"

"We can't just accuse the entire village of housing rebels," Emperor Ling responded calmly but firmly. "Those villagers were the victims of the rebels, not accomplices. We'd be wasting our time barking up the wrong tree."

"It doesn't matter if they were willing to cooperate or not!" the representative said. "The rebels are violent. And poor people are cowards. All the rebels have to do is threaten them, and they'd be willing to hide those dirty little upstarts!"

"There hasn't been any rebellious activity since we've captured the leader," the Master of Domestic Affairs tried to reason out. "Applying harsh measures like that would instill unnecessary fear in the population!"

"And what do you propose then? _Wait_ until there is activity and people get hurt?"

"No, but what you are saying is akin to evacuating a perfectly intact building because you believe it might catch fire."

"No, what I'm saying is to destroy any fire hazards before they even have a chance to cause harm!"

"Alright, alright, let's take it back to square one," Ling said, waving his hands to calm down the men. "I think we all agree that we don't want fire. But I do agree with the Master of Domestic Affairs that targeting the villages at the border does not seem like the first move we should make. Perhaps, if we exhaust all the alternatives, we can reconsider. For now, we need to double our efforts combing through the northern side of the badlands where there have been reports of small camps."

"We're wasting our time!"

"This is my decision," Ling stated in a voice that didn't warrant argument. "There is no proof that the villagers have conspired with them. What we do have a lead on is the presence of armed men in the northern stretches. I can't let paranoia sway me when the proof is before my eyes."

Lan Fan watched the representative sulk in his corner of the long table. But he didn't press his arguments anymore, and the meeting finished soon enough. The emperor left the room and headed for his private apartments, where he sent for a couple of servants; one to fetch his lunch and the other to tell the court that he would be eating alone in his rooms.

When lunch was brought in and prepared on the his table, the emperor waved the servants away from the room, and settled down to begin eating. But before he started, he sent her an inviting smile.

"Lan Fan, would you like to eat with me?"

Surprised, Lan Fan couldn't think of whether she should accept or not. She couldn't sense anyone's chi nearby, but just because they were alone it didn't mean it was any less a breach in propriety, right?

The king sighed, and his smile wavered a little. "Please, come. Eat with me," he said, and she detected a hint of sadness in his voice that she couldn't quite understand. It was lunch. Why was her lord sad?

She came to sit beside him, and was about to pick out her food, when the king beat her to it. Slowly, he began to pile food up on a plate and settled it in front of her. He gave her a gentle smile. "How was your break?"

"Oh, uhm. It was alright, your Majesty," Lan Fan responded, feeling a little awkward. "I got to rest well."

"That is good to hear," the king said. He finished scooping rice on his plate, and began to eat heartily. In between mouthfuls, he managed to continue the conversation. "Did you figure out what to do with that letter you showed me?"

Lan Fan's mouth twisted into a slight grimace. Truth be told, it kind of annoyed her that she hadn't heard back from the nameless writer. She wanted answers so badly.

"I wrote to him," she answered him finally. She could feel his eyes on her, intent and searching, and it made her feel warm and shy. She looked down at her plate. "He hasn't written back yet."

"I see."

It was strange to talk to the king about an experience she didn't share with him. So much of her daily life revolved around him, and excepting the last few days when she was on her lieu, she was always with him. But she now realized that these letters have become one of the few things that was hers alone, something that she could share with the emperor as much as she wanted, but ultimately was not really an experience _with_ him.

It felt so foreign.

"Would you like to read them?" she offered.

He coughed on the soup he was sipping. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he shook his head vigorously. "No, no. You don't have to show me! Really, those are private letters I'm sure. Whoever this guy is surely wouldn't have wanted you to flaunt his letters to other people."

"Oh," Lan Fan said. "Okay then."

They continued to eat in silence for a while. Then she asked, "Do you think I should find him?"

The king paused, chopsticks hovering over some grilled chicken. "Find who?"

"This person who writes to me."

The king's eyes were wide. "Uh, well it's up to you," he answered. He shook his head slightly as if knocking himself out of some kind of shock. "You seem pretty invested in this guy of yours. Is he a real knocker?"

"Ah, it's nothing like that!" Lan Fan denied vehemently. Why would the king even insinuate such a thing? He knew she was wary of this writer. Blushing, Lan Fan focused her attention on her food. "I just want to make sure he can be trusted."

The Emperor continued to eat quietly after that, barely talking anymore. A few times he just gave her a reassuring smile and urged her to eat more. But other than that, he didn't bring up the topic of the writer again or even talked about other things. Bothered, Lan Fan was left to wonder what it was she said that could have caused his Majesty to retreat into silence.

Hold on... did he think that she was allotting too much attention on these letters? Was he afraid that it was distracting her from her duty?

No, she couldn't let him think that. It wasn't true!

"Your Majesty, these letters are not that important to me," she blurted, turning to him. He looked back at her with the same shock expression he gave her before. "Please don't think that I'm going to let them take my attention away from you."

"Oh Lan Fan," the king said. "I wasn't thinking that at all." He seemed to search for words to say to her. Then he gave an almost sad laugh. "It's strange that we always end up with some kind of minor misunderstanding. I sincerely apologize!" He let out a long sigh. "Why don't you try treating this as if it's not going to affect me or the throne or the petty politics here at court? If you want to write to this guy, try not to worry too much. And if you don't want to write to him, then you can let it go without feeling guilty that you somehow neglected your duty by failing to find out too much about him."

Listening to him, Lan Fan realized that she never even considered the possibility that this really could be unrelated to politics. Always, the emperor's title and position influenced everything she did; her own rank and image affected the way people saw and treated her. Did there really exist a circumstance that was totally divorced from the politics that permeated every other aspect of her life?

"Anyway, just think about it on your own time, and don't rush," the king continued. "This is truly your decision to make."

The warmth and kindness in his advice were what finally convinced her. When she and the king finally finished their lunch and moved on to other meetings and tasks, her mind was less prone to wandering about the letters and what she ought to do about them.

The reply to the letter she sent came almost a week later. And when she read it, she tried not to over-think every single word written on the page. When she read it in that light, this Fángzi seemed pretty harmless. Audacious, of course – it still took some guts to do such an uncommon thing as initiate a correspondence with the emperor's High Guard, but now he appeared less duplicitous. A traveling scribe was a growing profession among young people who did not have the privileges of a high station, but were from families who could afford to have their children educated. The fact that one was in the village during the attack was not difficult to believe. She was not surprised to know that he was friends with someone who worked in the palace. For a moment, Lan Fan thought about searching for this servant who helped deliver the letters between the two of them, but on second thought, she decided it was probably better off if she involved very few people in this odd setup. After all, servants were sometimes ordered to do things they didn't know much about, so it was possible that the worker might not even know what kind of letter she was picking up from the garden.

Lan Fan decided to be much more cordial when she devised her response.

 _Hello Xiao Fangzi_ ,

_Thank you for your explanation. I really appreciate that. And I would like to reassure you that your gratitude is well-received. I suppose scribes like yourself don't see much action all that often, do you? Well, how are you now? I hope that the attack on the village didn't leave you too hurt. But I suppose if you are ready to travel west, then you must be doing quite all right._

_Yes, you are correct that court life can be pretty fickle. His Imperial Majesty handles it much better than I do. He is intelligent and knowledgeable. I am honoured to serve him, truly._

_Well, I suppose this is all I can write. I can't think of anything else to say._

_Sincerely,_

_The High Guard_

With that, Lan Fan waited until the hour before dawn – the quietest, deadest part of the night – to make the trip to the East Garden. There, she tucked the letter behind the hibiscus bushes in a small alcove on the wall.

-o-

Ling could hardly wait to open the letter. However, he barely had any time to check the garden, snatch the envelope, and return back in time for breakfast where he was joined by his mother.

"How are you, my son?" she asked, wolfing down a bean pastry.

"Doing well, mother," he answered as he took a seat across from her. He poured still steaming tea into his cup.

His mother narrowed amused eyes at him. "You are up to something."

He smiled at her, eyes wide with mock innocence. "What do you mean? I'm the emperor! I am _always_ up to something."

She grinned wolfishly. "I like that. So," she said, as she reached for another pastry. "Who is it?"

That got Ling's attention. "Who's what?"

"Oh come on, Ling! You come waltzing here smelling like hibiscus and plum blossoms. So unless you've taken a fancy to floral-scented perfume, I'm guessing you had a rendezvous in the garden by the East Wing. So who was it?"

Ling waved his hand at her dismissively. "Please! A man doesn't need to be with someone to enjoy the garden, does he?"

His mother quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "Alright, who am I to question the king? But if you really want to continue to avoid the subject of royal marriage, I suggest you don't let any of your advisers see you frolicking like that."

Ling couldn't suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't even know what the hurry is! I'm eighteen! One would think ladies of the court are above robbing the cradle!"

"Ha! Ladies of the court prefer young and virile men. Trust me, power and influence can only do so much to an old, wrinkly relic."

"They should at least wait until I'm in my twenties, when I am broader and can actually fill out an armour."

His mother rubbed pastry crumbs from her hands. She took her cup of tea, and before sipping, looked at him over the rim. "I don't want to know if you meant that literally or as a euphemism."

"Ew, mother! I'd never talk about that with you."

After they finished breakfast, his mother went off to attend to her own duties with her ladies-in-waiting trailing her. Ling was escorted to the throne room, where he was to begin a new session of hearings. He was hoping he could sneak a moment to read the letter, but before he found the opportunity, he felt the telltale signs of Lan Fan's chi permeating the energy waves around him, indicating that the guard shifts had changed. Damn it. She would see for sure if he was reading a letter, and that would end it all.

Lan Fan's shift was from 8 in the morning until midnight. And so even when he'd slipped into bed a little after 11, he still couldn't risk reading the letter. In the shadows, he wasn't entirely sure where Lan Fan was, and she moved about silently from time to time. All he could feel was the warm, familiar pleasure of her chi, which at any other time would have lulled him comfortably into a deep slumber. Not this time. Ling was racked with impatience.

Before Lan Fan's shift ended, she came close to his bed, hidden behind the canopy, and whispered in a soft voice. "You seem troubled, your Majesty. I hope you will be able to get some sleep eventually."

"Thank you, Lan Fan. I'm okay. Sleep is just being annoyingly evasive tonight."

Then she finally left, and a new guard replaced her.

Almost screaming with joy, Ling lunged for the small flashlight on his bedside table. Fishing for the letter in his pocket, he ripped the envelope open and extracted the folded paper from inside. Throwing his sheets over his head so that he was covered completely, he opened the flashlight and pointed it on the page.

He read the letter twice – no, three times, before burying his face in his pillows, overcome with feelings.

What was this? All this praise for the emperor? Was she trying to appear dutiful and loyal to Fangzi, or did she truly think he handled court intrigue with aplomb? It couldn't be; he made a large fool of himself so many times! Ling lifted his head from his pillows and ran his eyes over the sentences again.

 _The emperor handles it much better than I do,_ she said.

No, he didn't! She, on the other hand, was so graceful, sometimes he was jealous of her.

_Intelligent... knowledgeable..._

He tried to be. Of course, he tried. Did she really think of him like that? It was flattering. But it wasn't like she would just start complaining about the king to a stranger either anyway. Abruptly, he threw the sheets covering him, and decided to answer the letter right then and there. The new guard would just think he was taking care of some administrative stuff.

Settling himself on a table, he took a sheet of paper and a pen, and began writing the response.

_Dearest High Guard,_

_You are quite right that a scribe like me does not often partake in the kind of fights that occurred when we met. To be completely honest, the only battle I had ever been in is a food battle! I had accepted a challenge on who could eat the most number of dumplings the fastest. You could say that ultimately I lost. I managed to get first place, but I ended up ill later that day. Have I ever told you how much I love food? I believe I made a mention of it in my first letter. How about you? What is your favourite food?_

_You sound like you enjoy your job then. It must be nice to work for someone you think so highly of. I wish I could say the same, but sometimes my job can be unrewarding! Many times I've narrowly escaped a situation that can only be succinctly described as "Shoot the messenger!" When people don't like to hear the news you have to deliver, sometimes they think it's your fault!_

_Still, to read and write for a living is a simple, honest occupation. There's also sufficient demand for my skills that I don't have to worry about going hungry. At least not any time soon. That's not to say however that I would be opposed to the education of the common people. It's true that I would lose my job, but think of how many more would open if so many people could be better engaged in administrating their own lives?_

_Ah, but I'm talking nonsense here. Please, don't mind my blabbering too much. It's rare that I get to read and write letters to an interesting person of my choice about any topic I wish! Thank you for providing me with such a refreshing respite!_

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Xiao Fangzi, the traveling scribe_

-o-

Lan Fan suspected that the village in the west where Fangzi was currently working wasn't that far from the capital. They were able to write to each other with only a few days in between the arrival of each letter.

_Hi Fangzi,_

_It appears that love for food is something that we have in common! I'm afraid I've never been in a food battle, but I do love to eat almost anything! I'm not picky at all. I guess it comes with my job. One can't afford to be picky when your life hangs on the balance._

Lan Fan wondered whether she should relate an incidence about the emperor, but decided that it would not be very polite if she talked about him behind his back. So in the end, she didn't mention the emperor, but told the story in vague terms.

_You remind me of something that happened to a dear friend of mine. He never entered an official food contest (his strict mother does not allow him, hehe), but he often challenges himself to see how much food he can finish. One time he ate five steamed buns in less than 3 minutes! It would have been impressive if he had not come down with indigestion half-an-hour later!_

_I enjoy my job immensely. There's no greater honour than to serve the emperor. I wish I didn't sound like one of those pandering courtiers, but it really is difficult for me to talk about the king and my occupation. For the most part, I think it's because I can't find a way to put it into words. Maybe you won't understand. You are a writer after all. Putting things into words is your job._

_I don't think it's nonsense that the common people should be better educated! If you don't mind, I will let the emperor know about your feelings. I am sure he will be delighted to hear that, since he also thinks that education will help our people prosper._

_Until next letter,_

_The High Guard_

_P.S. It's getting a tad busy here at court, so my next response may be a bit delayed._

Fangzi's letter came a few days later. Lan Fan found that amidst the hubbub of politics, she was starting to look forward to the one thing where she didn't have to think about the things that were happening in the palace. And despite his slapdash schedule, the Emperor seems to be in a better mood lately, which just added to Lan Fan's own ease.

 _To the awesome High Guard,_ Lan Fan read. She indulged in an exasperated eye-roll. Nobody was here to see her anyway. It was almost three in the morning, and nobody would think of visiting the weapons storage room unless they were under attack. She really should be sleeping, but she didn't feel tired at all.

 _I do not envy your friend,_ Fangzi began. _Indigestion is very uncomfortable. And his mother sounds like a wise woman. Food battles are not half as noble as real ones, and they don't give your family name nearly as much honour. I hope your friend listens often to his mother._

_Please don't feel ashamed that there are things you can't describe. As a matter of fact, I'm certain that most people who work with words would agree that they can only go so far, that there are experiences for which we have not assigned a definitive label yet. And for what's it worth, I understand what you mean. Truly, I do. Even as a man trained to wield words, there are things I do not know how to say, and things that people say to me that I do not know how to interpret. And maybe it wouldn't cause me so much concern if it doesn't involve people I really care about._

_Do you... do you ever wish you could tell someone something really important, but... you just can't? And it's not even just a matter of phrasing or finding the right moment. It's a matter of being physically and socially and spiritually unable to just say it? Please don't laugh! I know it may sound weird and ugly. I even gave it a weird and ugly name – verbal constipation!_

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Xiao Fangzi, the traveling and ever-hungry scribe_

_P.S. Good luck with matters of court! I hope you survive to write your next letter._

Lan Fan held the letter tightly at the edges, eyes roaming that third paragraph over and over again under the light of the moon. Yes! Yes, she had wished it so many times, and nobody had _ever_ been able to describe that aching longing the same way that Fangzi had.

In a puzzling, serendipitous way, someone she barely knew had understood. She stood there by the window of the armory in stunned quietness. In an unexplainable way, she felt as if something had opened up in her, a fleeting sense of... companionship?

She shook her head. No, that couldn't be. She'd been writing to this Fangzi for only a few weeks. She hadn't even met the guy!

Still, she smoothed out the folds of the page, and re-read the letter with a small, unnoticed smile on her lips. She might not have known the traveling scribe for very long, but it didn't mean that their apparent similarity meant any less, did it? Especially when those who understood her were few and far between.

Glancing at the position of the moon, Lan Fan decided to slip back to her apartments to rest. She still didn't feel tired, especially now after reading Fangzi's latest letter. It filled her with a soft, warm buzz, a kind of energy that exuded peace and gentle giddiness. It was so unlike the usual kind of energy that filled her, one powered by a rush of adrenaline, and heightened her senses. It was too bad that she was so busy these days. For the first time, she wanted to tell him so many things.

-o-

When Ling woke up, the first thing he did was slip Lan Fan's letters from the bottom side of his pillow cover. He shrugged beneath his sheets, trying to burrow into them as comfortably as possible. He had written the night before in response to Lan Fan's most recent letter, which by far was the most interesting and expressive one she'd ever sent to him. Well, to Xiao Fangzi.

Quietly, he unfolded the letter, and read it again.

His favourite part was how many exclamation marks Lan Fan used in this letter. Exclamation marks! From _Lan Fan_ , the girl who barely talked to him with any expression other than deference and obedience. Her first sentence had an exclamation mark! It meant, he thought, that Lan Fan was excited to find that she and Fangzi had the same attitude towards food. And look how zealously she confessed how much she loved food. Oh, he hadn't heard Lan Fan speak so eagerly about food for such a long time now.

And look! She even talked about _him_ to Fangzi! Ling remembered clearly that time he tried to eat as many steamed buns as he could. Apparently she did too. And she referred to him as a 'dear friend of hers.' Ah. Rereading it gave him the same rush he'd felt when he first laid his eyes on this treasure of a letter. Swallowing a bubble of gleeful giggle, Ling avidly scanned the paragraph for the small laugh that Lan Fan had written. Ohh, that short 'hehe' was the closest thing he'd had to hearing her laugh in a long, long time. And the fact that it was written on paper with ink meant that it wasn't as ephemeral as an actual laugh. He could look back at it at any time, and in his imagination hear her laugh again and again.

Sighing, Ling snuggled the letter close to him. He took a real risk in the last letter he wrote. He tried to squeeze in a more personal angle in its content, a change in pace from the small talk they've exchanged so far. He was both thrilled and terrified thinking about what her reaction would be. He hoped she would not close up and distance herself again. They were making such good progress. He'd been right all along. He knew that she would be more comfortable displaying an air of camaraderie if she didn't think she was speaking to the emperor.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door of his apartments. Ling glanced at the clock stationed on top of his bedside table. It wasn't even 6 in the morning yet. He heard the muffled voice of his manservant as he answered the door. Whoever was on the other side sounded upset and out of breath. Slowly, Ling tucked the letter back beneath his pillow, and stood up from the bed.

A moment later, his manservant approached his bedroom door, and knocked quietly. Ling opened it.

"Your Majesty," the manservant said, bowing low. "A soldier from the barracks wishes to inform you that the leader of the rebellion in the badlands has escaped from prison!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know what's going to happen now, right? Heehee, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update!! Basically, I forgot about this story for a while, and so I didn't work on it. Now that I've started school again back in September, I didn't have a lot of time to churn out the ending as quickly as I would have liked. I started writing this chapter before November, but when the month rolled along, I got sucked into the NaNoWriMo process.
> 
> I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed this story, and also who reviewed my other stories. I was looking at the reviews some nights ago, and my heart just swells at the amount of wonderful things you guys have told me. I am really so, so happy that I get to write stories for you, and that you guys give my stories a chance.
> 
> And on to the ending!

Ling stuffed the letter beneath his pillow, and he tossed a robe around himself as he headed out. It was still early enough in the morning that it would not be too criminally scandalous to be lounging around in a robe, especially if there was an emergency. And a highly wanted rebel escaping from prison counted as an emergency.

He followed the guard quickly to the prison cells that lined the bowels of the palace. From the illumination of the orange torchlight, he could see a man wringing his hands in front of an empty cell. He probably thought he was going to get executed; he was, after all, supposed to be guarding the prisoners.

"What happened?" Ling asked. He did not have plans to execute anyone, but this was a serious transgression that Ling could not brush under the carpet, lest he lose face and control of his subordinates. That had always been a tricky balance to maintain as an emperor.

"I d-do not know, Your Majesty," the man stammered. He was past his prime, but not so old that he could use age to defend his negligence. "One moment he was there, and the next, he was just gone!"

"You did not hear anything? Did not even hear any tampering on the locks?"

"I... I did not, Your Majesty. As far as I know, the key ring was always around my belt, and the key was also always there. It was almost as if he vanished into thin air!" And with some surprise, Ling watched as the man broke down into tears and bowed way down to the floor, his forehead scraping the stained cement. "I did not notice a thing!"

 _It could be alkahestry_ , Ling thought. There were ways, from what he had gathered during his discussions with Mei, that human senses could be warped into misinterpreting reality.

"Alright," Ling said gently. "You will be questioned more about this incident by one of the undersecretaries of the Master of Domestic Affairs." Then he turned to the guard who accompanied him to the dungeon. "Please let General Hoang know that I need to speak to him immediately. Tell him to meet me and the other advisers in the conference room in the Serpent Wing." The guard bowed briskly and went to do as ordered with the efficiency of a seasoned soldier.

Ling's stomach rumbled in protest for breakfast the entire time he traversed the gilded halls of the palace to the Serpent Wing. But the coldness of his fingers and toes made the hunger easy to ignore. He dreaded to hear what the Ng clan representative would say about this. Certainly, he would insist that he'd been right all along to advocate the destruction of the village that had been attacked. Ling did not see how that could possibly make sense, but now that his plans had failed, Ling knew everyone would take the opportunity to point out that their alternatives would have been better.

Before he entered the Serpent Wing conference room, already his head was pounding with the tame beginning of a migraine. The Master of Domestic Affairs was already seated in one of the numerous chairs around the long table. He rose as the Emperor entered, and he bowed deeply. Ling waved for him to sit back down, and they waited as the other members of the council trickled into the room. All of them were in various states of disarray, unprepared for such an early summoning.

Once everyone was seated, Ling gathered his courage to break the scandalous news to the crowd. "I thank you for your punctuality in arriving here. I know it is most unusual. But I regret to inform you that as of this morning, we have received news that Zi Rao, the leader of the badlands rebellion, has escaped from prison."

Ling couldn't even continue. The room exploded in a flurry of outrageous cries and derogatory name-calling that Ling was embarrassed to hear from such distinguished men and women. After a few minutes, he felt that everyone had managed to release their first bouts of tantrum, and tried to regain control.

"I understand that this is unpleasant news, but the priority right now is to solve this problem and prevent even more dire consequences from occurring," he announced. He was met with some approving nods and some accusatory glares. The latter he decided to ignore. "Now, the most likely place he would retreat to is the northern stretches of the badlands, where we suspect there are camps of rebels hiding. And he knows that we know this. So he's probably not going to go there. My biggest bet is that he is still in the city, or somewhere close by. Somewhere so obvious that he thinks we would never search for him there."

Ling rubbed his eyes, trying to quell the burgeoning headache. He turned to his Master of Domestic Affairs and said, "Send some of your underlings to seek out any clues in the palace. And now that it's been mentioned, why don't we split the spies in the palace and the adjacent vicinity? The rest of them we can send to the neighbouring villages. Same goes for our soldiers."

General Hoang nodded his head, confirming the order. "Would you like us to add a bounty to his head, Your Highness?"

Ling looked to the Master of Trade. "How does ten thousand taels sound?"

"Sounds like we can find him within a few days," the older man said.

When everything was set, Ling set out to return to his apartments. He summoned for breakfast, and while he waited, he jumped back to bed with a loud, irritated groan.

"Your Majesty..." a whisper came from beside the bed post, and he was startled to find Lan Fan standing there. Through the slits of her mask, he could see the stark concern reflecting on her eyes. Immediately, he sat up with a little more dignity than he felt. Regretfully, he realized that Lan Fan had shadowed him the entire time to the trip to the dungeons and the conference room, and he had not even noticed.

"Lan Fan! I'm so sorry!" he cried out before he could stop himself.

"It's alright! Please do not apologize. Are you okay?"

Ling almost smiled at this curious breach in her reticence. Perhaps the letters _were_ working. Not only did they manage to bridge a communication gap between them, but maybe they were also helping in encouraging her to break out of her shell. Could it be that...

His thought was interrupted by the coming of his meal, with his mother tailing the servants who brought in a magnificent tray of food.

"My son, I have heard what happened." She rushed to his side, and gave him an embrace atypical for emperors to receive from anyone, but not for sons from their mothers. "Why don't you eat some breakfast first? You cannot think through a _disaster_ like this on an empty stomach."

"Geez, mother. Did you come here to make me feel better or to rub in my mistake? Because I can't tell."

His mother placed a hand on her chest. "You wound me!" she said in mock dismay. "If I was going to rub in your mistake, I would never be vague about it."

Ling rolled his eyes and reached for a sweet bun.

"The prison cell does not show obvious signs of tampering. As a matter of fact, the locks are still intact," he told them before taking a bite. "The guard did not notice anything. My first bet is alkahestry."

His mother placed her chin on her palm, no doubt already listing likely suspects in her mind. Lan Fan stared blankly at him with wide, worried eyes. He gave her a small smile, barely suppressing the urge to take her hand.

-o-

Lan Fan followed the Emperor throughout the chaotic day and the one that followed after that. The Emperor had very little time to himself, and was even unable to sleep for very long. His attention was required by almost every single Master of the court worrying about how Zi Rao's escape would affect their domains. Mostly, it was the Master of Domestic Affairs who apologetically accosted the Emperor about possible hiding places, dead ends in investigations, and hopeful clues from reviewing previous evidence. But then there were also people like the temple caretakers who wanted to know which incense scent the Emperor believed would attract the most fortune.

By night, Lan Fan had to help the Emperor stagger into his rooms and settle down on one of the cushioned sofas.

"Thank you, Lan Fan," he panted. "I think I was about to faint."

"I will call the servants to bring dinner," Lan Fan said, and she moved to the antechamber where some of the servants waited to be called upon. After letting them know that the king was hungry, she hurried back to the room and faced the Emperor.

His eyes, which had been inspecting the high ceiling blindly, shifted to her and his mouth quirked in a small smile. "Good thing you were there or someone would have had to peel me off the floor."

"Please don't talk that way, Your Majesty," Lan Fan said quietly. "You are tired, and that is understandable. No need feel ashamed about it."

His smiled widened, and Lan Fan had to look away before he spotted the deepening red in her cheeks.

When the dinner came, it became apparent that the Emperor still had quite a bit of strength left. At least enough strength that he was able to pester her for a few, persistent minutes to eat with him. When at last he managed to get one pork bun into her, he became slightly less insistent.

While the Emperor was dining, Lan Fan realized with a start that for the last two days, she had barely thought about Fangzhi. The sinking feeling that shot down her chest indicated that she felt more guilty about it than she initially thought she would. Had he managed to reply to her latest letter? What if it was sitting in the garden alcove right now, waiting for her? What if someone found it? An itch began to grow inside her, an impatience that insisted she ought to go to the garden. But her guardian instincts kicked in, and she stamped the feeling down. There should be nothing more important than guarding the Emperor who was right here, in this room, and no letter, no matter whom it was from, should take precedence over him.

Standing more vigilant than ever, she tried to make up for the lapse in her attention. However, as the night wore on, and the Emperor finished dinner, washed, and tucked himself into bed, Lan Fan found her mind wandering to Fangzhi again. It was probably best to let him know that the court was in shambles. It would pacify her mind, and his, if she notified him that her occasional letters would become even more infrequent. He would not await her responses, and she would not have to worry about answering his until they both had a little more free time.

Jung-woo would take over her shift come dawn, and until then, Lan Fan tried to devise a letter in her head.

_Fangzhi,_

_I am terribly sorry to have to deliver this news to you, but I can no longer correspond with you. At least, not in the foreseeable future. Probably in a few weeks or if things are extremely dire, maybe months. Something terrible has happened in the court, and I need to concentrate on the Emperor as much as I can. I don't know if you have heard about what happened. It's probably not my place to tell you. But suffice it to say that I feel scared that something so dangerous had happened without anyone predicting it, without anyone knowing until it was too late. Imagine all the things that could have happened to the Emperor!_

_I hope you are well, wherever you are. One day, I hope we can continue our letters where we left off._

When the first rays of sunlight began to squeeze their way in between the window slats, Jung-woo appeared to take her shift. Lan Fan went to her rooms and wrote the letter.

-o-

The court tried to keep the news of the rebel's escape from infiltrating mainstream gossip. They succeeded mostly, but of course, courtiers were going to talk and that was inevitable. The general public though did not seem affected yet. Ling could only imagine the kind of societal collapse that would cause. Okay, well, maybe not _collapse_. That may be too aggressive a word, more reminiscent of Amestris than anything, but it would not be a walk in the garden. The people would question his ability to keep prisoners, and rebels would make him the laughing stock of the empire. It would even empower them, knowing that the rebellion leader managed to escape from his _prison_ in his _palace_ from his _guards._ That would be embarrassing, to put matters lightly.

His stomach roiled with anticipation, an unpleasant feeling only second to hunger. He tried to involve himself as much as possible in the investigation process. He sent Mei and Alphonse to question the soldier who guarded the cells. However, when they came to him with answers, it was difficult not to feel like he had hit yet another dead end.

"It's alkahestry, but not in the manner we initially thought," Alphonse said. "We found traces of a certain forgetfulness drug in the guard's system."

Ling nodded. Most of those recruited to become a guard in the Emperor's court were prohibited from consuming drugs that might affect their performance.

"How is this related to alkahestry?" Ling asked.

Mei nodded eagerly, as if she was waiting for him to ask this question all along. "Now this is where it gets interesting. This particular forgetfulness drug is actually derived from the plant called Heartache Balm."

Ah. Ling remembered the controversy around Heartache Balm. Until recently, the herb was used by traditional doctors to alleviate pain and calm the mind. It was used as an ingredient in many different teas. That was until two years ago when someone discovered that with alkahestry, Heartache Balm could be turned into a mind-altering narcotic. The demand for it suddenly increased, and there were violent outbursts in the west caused by over-consumption. Ling had to pass a new law that heavily limited the supply of Heartache Balm, and applied a large tax on its production and distribution. It was one of his first major challenges as Emperor.

"So whoever helped Zi Rao escape must have access to Heartache Balm," Ling mused. "Right now, the only people who have legal access to it are traditional healers and professional doctors."

Ling thanked them before dismissing them. His head buzzed with all the details and issues he tried to keep up with. Other than Zi Rao, there were other matters of court that needed his attention. He wished they would just evaporate so that at least he could focus on one thing only, but apparently Emperors needed to be masters of omniscience.

Sighing, he told his attendants that he would go to the gardens for a bit of a refreshing break. Jung-woo trailed behind him silently as he traversed the Eastern Wing garden. Ling tried to take an inconspicuous glance at the alcove behind the hibiscus flowers. He noticed there was nothing there. Disappointed, but at the same time, sympathetic, he continued to roam the paths lined with heady-scented flowers.

Lan Fan must be exhausted. Ling should not expect a letter from her when there are so many things going on. As a matter of fact, he should probably reassure her that she could take her time.

Deciding on that course of action, he told his attendants he quickly needed to bathe to get rid of the headache he was actually not feeling. In the privacy of the baths – which he managed to obtain only after convincing Jung-woo and the other bathroom servants that as an eighteen-year-old, he was perfectly capable of scrubbing himself – he snuck back to his rooms through secret passageways. There, he devised a letter for Lan Fan.

As he picked up a pen, he realized he had a bit of a conundrum. He couldn't quite tell Lan Fan that Fangzhi was aware of the problems in the palace, because all the officials tried their best not to let the common people know. Therefore it was unlikely that Fangzhi would have learned of Zi Rao's escape through his literary services. Ling supposed Fangzhi could withdraw for other reasons.

_Lan Fan,_

_I wish to let you know that I might be unable to write in the same frequency as we had these past few weeks. I came across a friend of mine from childhood, and he has introduced me to a good opportunity up north in his hometown, where many people are willing to pay large sums of money to be able to read and write. I will stay there for a couple of weeks to teach the villagers._

_I hope you do not consider this as an affront to our burgeoning acquaintance. I have grown rather fond of our letters, and I do regret it very much that I must postpone later ones. A man must eat after all. I do promise however to get back to you as soon as I am able. Please do not concern yourself overly much. I know that the court is always hurling something vile at you one way or another. Please take care. I would like to find you well next time I go back to the capital._

_Will miss you greatly,_

_Fangzhi_

Ling tucked the letter into his robe, and snuck back to the gardens to hide it in the alcove. Only after that did he return to the bathroom.

Another week passed, and to Ling's growing dismay, their already minimal progress seemed to be petering out. None of the first leads they followed revealed anything significant. He told General Hoang to expand his search twenty kilometers out of the capital. Everyday, he received more and more glares from clan representatives who had not liked his initial decree of leaving the village near the badlands alone. They had not outright accused him of being wrong – that would be _illegal_ – but he could almost read their minds. If it was not the village that they took issue with, it was probably something or other, and it was probably all _his_ fault, and they were _right_ all along, and nobody should have put this slapdash youth on the throne.

Ling was embarrassed, but not ashamed, so he passed by those glares as stoically as he could.

One day while he was receiving supplicants in the throne room, a haggard looking messenger stormed in from a passageway and interrupted the old man who was just about to step up in front of Ling.

"Your Majesty! There is urgent news from the Master of Domestic Affairs and Representative Xiang!" the man exclaimed.

Ling promptly promised the rest of the supplicants they would be prioritized in the next session, and had the guards lead them out of the throne room. The Master of Domestic Affairs and the clan representative of Xiang walked into the room to stand before the dais. While the representative of Xiang looked infuriated and apoplectic, the Master glanced in Ling's direction with obvious anxiety and trepidation.

Ling's heart sunk. He didn't think this would be good news. Once the room had been fully cleared except for his two audience members, he waved for them to begin their story.

"Your Majesty!" the representative of Xiang began, his voice shaking with barely concealed contempt. "I am aghast to be the bearer of bad news. But we have unearthed some incriminating evidence that the High Guard has been colluding with the rebels!"

Ling's blood turned cold. He gripped the arms of his chair, and could not help the reproach that leapt from his throat. "Explain yourself!"

The Master of Domestic Affairs placed a placating hand on Xiang's shoulder and stepped up before him.

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid it is true." From an oversized pocket of his jacket, Ling watched as the Master pulled out envelopes upon envelopes of letters. His heart sunk even further, which he did not think was possible, upon recognition of the familiar brown paper and the forced penmanship written on their front. As if from a great distance, he felt his cold, cold hands begin to shake even as they tightened around the arms of the throne.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice shaking. His felt Lan Fan's own chi become erratic and tumultuous. She was afraid. Very afraid.

"Last week we found a letter in the gardens as we were searching for possible clues as to how Zi Rao managed to escape," the Master explained. "It was a letter from your High Guard to a man named Fangzhi. At first we did not see the significance, until a day later, another letter was spotted at that same location. This Fangzhi claimed he could not continue a correspondence due to a 'friend' returning. We did not want to make accusations until we were sure there was something illicit going on. A few of my underlings managed to get a hold of your High Guard's other correspondence with this Fangzhi from her room. We analyzed them and – "

"She has betrayed you!" Xiang interrupted with a loud cry. He grabbed hold of the letters, crumbling them with a tense fist. "It was clear from our analysis that purposely or not, she had given this Fangzhi, who is obviously Zi Rao's accomplice, important information on how to help him escape from prison."

A dizziness overcame Ling, as if he was hungry and hadn't eaten for a day, but there were no hunger pangs in his core; there was just a massive, despairing dread.

"You – you don't understand!" he tried to say. "Those letters... they... they..." Ling trailed off, unable to sort through the hundreds of things he wanted to tell them. _Those letters are innocent; they're not about politics, for goodness's sake! They are about food and feelings and friendship, and I read them and I wrote them._

He wrote them.

Ling's voice tripped in his throat at that one thing that he could not confess. Not here in front of these men, not in front of Lan Fan. This was a horrible misunderstanding, but revealing his part in it would shame her even worse.

Xiang continued fiercely. "The Master of War himself inspected these letters. All the highly-intellectual strategists under his command agree that your High Guard's letters contain clues about the court that could have given Zi Rao's supporters knowledge of how to get him out."

Ling couldn't help the laugh that erupted from him, but it was a cold, unfeeling laugh. "Well, they must be highly-intellectual indeed if they can see something that isn't there! There's no proof that this Fangzhi is even remotely associated with Zi Rao!"

Xiang shook his head. "I understand that this must be a very difficult conversation for Your Majesty, but we must take action swiftly! The very person who might have betrayed you is the one most responsible for your safety!"

Before Ling could even do anything, guards poured in from the hallway, and climbed up the steps of the dais to grab Lan Fan. Ling's heart broke when she didn't even resist. They dragged her down the steps, and forced her to kneel in front of him and the Master of Domestic Affairs and Xiang.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Xiang demanded. "Do you deny in front of His Majesty that you have participated in this correspondence?"

"Wait! That's not – " _a fair question!_ Ling wanted to yell, but Lan Fan's usually soft voice silenced all others.

"It's true," she said, her head hanging in shame. "I wrote letters to him, but I didn't know... I..." she shook her head, unable to go on, because he knew that she knew that in cases like these, intention never took precedence over the outcome. It didn't matter that she inadvertently revealed something, that she did not know what Fangzhi might really be. All it mattered was that in everyone's eyes, she just committed treason.

Ling found himself standing, ready to move down the steps of the dais, before he even realized that he had stood up and walked the length of the platform. He wanted to reach for Lan Fan, to snatch her out of guards' vicious hands, to slap the accusatory glare from Xiang.

"Your Majesty," the Master of Domestic Affairs interjected in a sympathetic voice. "I would suggest that we take the High Guard in custody for now as we investigate the issue further. It would be highly irresponsible of us if we do not observe the law for something such as this. I promise you, as far as I am able, I will try to assure that the High Guard gets a fair trial. We will do everything we can to get to the bottom of Fangzhi's letters."

The confession was clawing its way from Ling's mouth. They were almost out, the words "It was me, I wrote them," but hearing what they would sound like made him stop. They sounded childish. Petty.

And he realized just then that that was true. That this entire system of exchanging letters had been driven by his own selfishness and pettiness, because as king, he couldn't accept that there were things that he couldn't have. That there were boundaries he couldn't cross.

And now Lan Fan was suffering because of him.

He would not be able to confess. They would not believe him. They would think he's just trying to save her. He watched helplessly as Lan Fan was led away, her eyes studiously trained on the floor. Ling felt as if he was witnessing everything outside of his body. His mind had slid to a stop, replaying over and over again the scene that had just transpired, and seemed to be unable to move on from that. He couldn't feel his hands anymore, wasn't even sure if they were still cold or not.

It was then that Ling fainted not out of hunger for the first time.

-o-

Lan Fan did not know how long she'd been in the prison cell. Probably closer to two days. It was long enough that she actually felt exhausted sobbing on the stone bench at the corner of the cell. Her eyes were so sore and burned so much that she could hardly keep them open. She didn't think she would have tears left for the rest of her life.

She couldn't believe how idiotic she had been! She let herself be fooled by someone she hadn't even known! How stupid was that? She would keep a courtier at arm's length because they happened to insult the king's pinky, but she would blabber away to a man she had not even met? Outrageous! Her grandfather must be rolling around in his grave.

She could not keep away the Emperor's distraught face from her mind. He didn't want to believe it! She could tell. It was so painful for him to hear the accusations against her, because he _trusted_ her! Lan Fan saw his shocked face against the darkness of her lids and the shadows of the cell.

She wished she never wrote to Fangzhi. She didn't know if the strategists were correct in their conjecture that Fangzhi was affiliated with the rebel leader, but the Master of Domestic Affairs was an intelligent man. He was also sensible and one of the few masters that Ling could truly trust. She would not be surprised if Fangzhi really did turn out to be Zi Rao's accomplice. And if he wasn't, well, what right did she have to go dallying with him anyway? None at all! She let her foolishness get the better of her, merely because she received flattery that she didn't get elsewhere. She had been convinced when the Emperor said it was alright for her to write back, but as High Guard she was supposed to be even more vigilant than the Emperor. She could not take liberties that the Emperor might think harmless, because sometimes the High Guard was supposed to protect the emperor from his own folly.

Lan Fan sniffed. The only foolish one now was her. There was no denying that.

There came a rattle from the cell door, and before Lan Fan could get an arm over her face, the bright light of the torches from the hall came streaming in as the door swung open. Shadowed figures came inside the cell in a cloud of feverish whispers, and she recognized the Emperor's voice to be one of them. Lan Fan pushed herself up from the bench, just in time as the Emperor crouched in front of her and pulled her into a very tight embrace.

"Oh, Lan Fan! I'm so, so sorry!" he said into her shoulder. She squirmed, feeling uncomfortable that he should be the one apologizing. But his hold on her was tight, and she could not shrug him off. "They wouldn't let me see you. They said you might be dangerous, so I had to find a way to sneak in here."

It was then that Lan Fan looked up at the other shadows blocking the doorway. She could sense her cousin Jung-woo, but he was not one of the people by the door. Before her eyes could even adjust to the sudden onslaught of light, she felt the telltale signature of Alphonse and Mei's chi.

The Emperor pulled back a bit and inspected her. "Are you okay, Lan Fan? They didn't harm you, did they?"

The guards had not done anything worse than throw her in the cell. They didn't even mock her or make jokes. She was tormented by nothing other than her own conscience.

"I am alright, Your Majesty," she managed to utter. "Please, forgive me for my carelessness! Those letters, I never – "

"Shush, Lan Fan!" he said, and brought her close to him again. Lan Fan felt bewildered, unsure how to feel about this closeness with the young lord. He was warm and kind, but she was sure she didn't deserve this display of affection. Even now, he still believed the best of her. "I know you didn't betray me."

"Your Majesty," she whispered. "Please don't say such things. If it turns out that Fangzhi is indeed Zi Rao's accomplice... I..." She didn't know what she would do. Not that she could do much. She would be executed of course, if she did not die of shame before then. But there was still one way to restore honour both to herself, her family, and most of all, to the Emperor. "I would take my own life!"

"Stop it!" the Emperor exclaimed, shaking her hard. "You don't understand! You're innocent!"

She shook her head, closing her puffy eyes. "You always thought too kindly of me."

"I _know_ you're innocent," he insisted. "I know it because..." he closed his own eyes and took a deep, measured breath. "I wrote Fangzhi's letters."

Lan Fan couldn't have heard that correctly. She blinked what would have been owlish eyes if only her lids weren't so swollen from crying.

The Emperor buried his face in his hands, and slowly raked his fingers through his bangs in a manner that made it seem such a burden. His face looked pained as his hands came away.

"I wrote those letters," he repeated.

Dully, all Lan Fan could stammer was, "W-well, what happened to the real Fangzhi?"

The Emperor chuckled sadly. "There never was a real Fangzhi. Not as far as I know. He is... he is just a figment of my imagination, someone I cooked up so I could exchange letters with you."

Lan Fan felt like the world turned, not quite upside-down, but sideways. With a sudden jerk. And she couldn't quite orient herself in it.

"It was me this entire time." He gave a dejected shrug, unable to look in her eyes again.

A silence stretched between them. At length, Lan Fan finally asked, "But why?"

Still keeping his eyes on the ground, the Emeperor shook his head and shrugged again. "I wanted... I wanted to be friends with you and it seemed the only way I could do it."

"Friends?" Lan Fan repeated. "Your Majesty, if ever I have acted in a way that suggested you were not my priority, I am terribly sorr–"

"No, Lan Fan. It isn't devotion I'm looking for, because I know I already have that from you," Ling cut her off, still looking away.

Lan Fan was deeply confused by what he was trying to get at. All her life, she had cared for him and showed it in the best way she knew how. Everything her grandfather taught her, she imprinted in her manners, her lifestyle, her very _being_ , and she didn't know what else to be, how else to act to her lord. There was no denying that the Emperor was the single most important person in Lan Fan's life, and she ached knowing that somehow, this was still not evident to him. That somehow, she still fell short.

"Tell me," he whispered softly. "Did you ever consider Fangzhi to be your friend?"

She didn't know what to say. Who was this Fangzhi that had lived in her head for weeks, if his physical identity was the Emperor himself? She couldn't wrap her mind around it. It seemed that Fangzhi was as much a figment of her imagination as he was the Emperor's.

Then the Emperor chuckled again. "Never mind. It was a silly question." Then he finally looked at her. "I need you to be strong, okay? I got you into this mess, and I promise I will get you out."

"You're going to tell them that you are Fangzhi?" she asked, surprised. She didn't think people would take that very well. She could already imagine all the conspiracy theories.

"I am afraid that won't work," he said, echoing her thoughts. "The only thing I can think of is to find the real culprit who managed to get Zi Rao out. Then we'll show that you and Fangzhi had nothing to do with it. I started my own investigations separate from those of the Master of Domestic Affairs. We're going to set this right."

Lan Fan nodded, understanding the unstated fact in his explanation. That she would have to stay imprisoned until then.

"What can I do from here?" she asked.

The emperor sighed. "Not much. If they question you, I want you to answer all the questions as truthfully as you can, at least up until the point where I told you the truth right now. Just pretend that you still don't know Fangzhi's real identity, and answer in the same frame of mind as you would before I came now."

Lan Fan nodded, biting her lip.

He continued, "I will try and convince the interrogator not to take it too hard on you. Most people believe you've been careless, but that you didn't intentionally sell out. I think you would be fine. For now."

She was surprised. She would have thought everyone hated her by now and wanted her dead.

However, it seemed painful to her that she couldn't do anything or help the Emperor during this turbulent time.

She looked to the side; it was rare she would forget anyone in her surroundings, but seeing Alphonse and Mei standing there reminded her that she and the Emperor were being watched. She blushed and retracted herself from his hold. He took it as his cue to leave.

"I don't have much time, after all," he explained. "Mei activated an alkahestry script to make the guard fall asleep. Hehe, it isn't much different as the trick used on the soldier guarding Zi Rao. But he's going to wake up soon, and I have to return to a court function before they realize I'm probably not in the bathroom."

Lan Fan nodded, and she watched the Emperor retreat out through the door, and she felt the chi of her cousin follow the three away from the cells.

-o-

His High Guard was set to have her trial in a week. Ling was pressed for time. The court didn't dare push it off any longer.

Ling sat on his desk, a pile of notes in front of him. He hid these stack of papers in a special drawer with an alchemical lock that Alphonse made for him, so that nobody, not even Ling's own spies, would realize that he's conducting his own investigation.

He'd been writing notes of everything he knew so far. They had initially been able to capture Zi Rao, not in the badlands, but in the estates west of the capital. Ling had deployed one of his mother's friends to snoop around, because he could not use one of his own spies. His mother had always been so good at intrigue. When the friend came back, she bore tales not of Zi Rao, but of the worsening circulation of the narcotic version of Heartache Balm among the people who lived there.

Another story came from his mother herself. She relayed to him rumours of the Fung Family's sudden interest in alkahestry, although very few of their members had the ability to perform. The distant nephew of the Fung's chief who went by the name of Dan Fung seemed to have learned quite a bit in the past few months, progressing in his studies at a rate that surprised even his mentor. People said he was using alkahestry to advance himself within his family's ranks, and also to change the perception that the Fungs were no good at it.

Ling didn't know how that was related to anything, but his mother said that was the only thing of note she could find out so far.

From the Master of War, Ling heard news of the badlands. The village that had been attacked was doing better, and even after several thorough searches, there still was not any proof that the tiny village was harbouring any rebels. The villagers were probably well aggrieved by now, and Ling was sorry for that. He would have to make it up to them. He had never believed that they were anything but victims in this whole fiasco, but there were many who were suspicious.

However, General Hoang also reported that one of the lieutenants spotted a small tent hiding among the foliage on the northern stretches of the badlands. Convinced that they've finally found the camp of the rebels, the lieutenant went back to request backup, but the tent was no longer there by the time they got back.

Rubbing his eyes, he decided that there were some thing he just could not learn from staring at browned pieces of paper. He summoned a page and asked for Dan Fung, the alkahestry student. The young man came in a few minutes later. He was in an elegant apparel, with his long hair sleekly pulled back in a tight ponytail. He had a fresh face that had understated features, but he was not terrible looking. The young man gave Ling a proper bow.

"Hello Dan, I just have a few questions for you. This shouldn't take long," Ling began. He tried to give the boy a warm smile. "I hear that you have been studying alkahestry very hard."

"That's correct, Your Majesty," Dan confirmed.

"Remind me, who is your mentor again?"

"That would be Professor Wei."

"Ah! She is absolutely brilliant, I hear," Ling responded. Wei was the wife of the alkahestrist who took in Alphonse as an apprentice. "And how long have you been under her tutelage?"

"A year and a half, Your Majesty."

"Before then, what did you do as a young boy in the Fung province? You must have always had a distinct interest in alkahestry to be doing so well after only a year and a half."

Here, Ling noted that Dan shifted uncomfortably for a split-second, before recovering. "My family managed the Fung botanical business. I helped with the accounts. And yes, I always was interested in alkahestry, but there wasn't an opportunity for me to pursue it until recently."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that," Ling said. "But since you are here now, I suppose that an opportunity did eventually open up?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Dan looked down on the polished hardwood floor. "The business began to struggle, and I wasn't needed as much anymore. I could make more money here in the capital, so I was apprenticed to Professor Wei."

Ling nodded, and for the first time in a long time, the gears of his mind actually began to rotate in tandem. Some of the Fungs were botanists. Two years ago their business declined. Now one of their members was an alkahestry student making prodigious progress in his studies.

To thwart off any suspicions about Ling's intentions, he redirected the conversation to a slightly different angle. "And what a great decision you made coming here. I am, for one, quite happy to have you here. I wonder if you could fulfill one of my self-indulgent requests."

"What is it, Your Majesty?"

"There is an official Youth Congregation for the Advancement of Medicine occurring in about a month's time. I am wondering if you would like to be a representative from the capital in this meeting? I was hoping to send my acquaintance, Alphonse, but he would be unfortunately vacationing in Amestris at that time."

Dan Fung took the pamphlet from Ling's outstretched hand. Ling hoped it was enough of an honour to have the Emperor personally request his presence at the congregation, that Dan Fung would not pay too much attention to the questions that Ling asked. It was a diversion, and Ling hoped that Dan would not see through it. The truth was, Ling had already surmised what had happened from Dan's answers.

"I am honoured, Your Majesty," Dan said, without showing in his face whether he actually meant it or if he was reciting a polite statement.

"I am glad to hear it," Ling returned, and the young man took his leave. When he was gone long enough, Ling requested General Hoang's presence. When the General came into his room, Ling told him to investigate previous cases of rebellious attacks.

"In particular, I want you to search for any presence of the Heartache Balm drug."

General Hoang assented and went to do as ordered. Ling headed to the Master of Trade's office to confirm whether the Fung botanists actually grew Heartache Balm, which was likely, since it was in the west where many of the violence erupted two years prior. It was exhilarating to have his mind going at a speed faster than a turtle's pace for the first time in a week. By the time he reached the Master of Trade's office, he knew his next step was to obtain copies of his letters as Fangzhi to Lan Fan.

Ling now had a plan.

-o-

Lan Fan's trial came. Ling watched as she was brought in from the same passage as she was dragged out nine days before. They were once again in the court room, and Ling was sitting in his throne. By the base of the dais stood the Master of Domestic Affairs who held the evidence against Lan Fan. Ling would have to question her and then judge her; though the judgment was based solely on the Emperor's discretion, there were councilors lined up in chairs just beyond the dais. The councilors would not openly question Ling, of course, but if any of them thought he did not judge fairly, or if they just did not like his decision, they had enough influence in the court to colour people's opinion of the Emperor.

Ling was a little relieved to see that Lan Fan did not look too roughened up. She looked dirty and anxious, but not hurt. Some of the councilors were giving her evil looks. Xiang was among them.

"Lan Fan," the Master of Domestic Affairs declared to the quiet room. "You have been accused of treason. How would you plead?"

"Not guilty," she said in her usually soft tone.

"These letters," the Master of Domestic Affairs continued, and he held up the letters that Fangzhi had written and the ones she wrote in return, "stand as evidence against your crime." He then spent the next few minutes reading all of the written letters out loud to the room. When he finished, he reiterated the charges that he and Xiang had previously proclaimed when they had Lan Fan imprisoned.

"After careful analysis by strategists in our War Department, we have concluded that Fangzhi is in fact in alliance with the rebels, and that your letters contain vital information about the court that helped Zi Rao escape. First, you described the court as ' _treacherous and hostile,'_ which the strategists believe gave the rebels enough sense of how heavily guarded their leader is."

Ling cringed inside so strongly that it took all of his strength not to let it show on his face. _That_ was supposed to be an incriminating evidence against Lan Fan? If the entirety of Xing didn't think that the court was naturally treacherous and hostile by now, then everyone must be ingesting Heartache Balm.

The Master of Domestic Affairs was no idiot. Ling admired very much the man's composed questioning, since he knew that no doubt, the Master must also be banging his head on a metaphoric table, wondering what kind of standardized tests students now had to take to be qualified as a strategist. Ling would have to look into that matter after all of this was over. He couldn't have incompetent folks accidentally ruin people's lives.

He went on. "Secondly, you mentioned that your 'friend,' no doubt a reference to the Emperor, loves to eat! The strategists do not think that it is a coincidence that Zi Rao had been freed in the same night that the Emperor overate and had to rest early due to a stomach ache."

 _What a load of crap!_ Ling thought. _It was just a coincidence. But of course, to these 'strategists' there couldn't possibly be such a thing. Everything must have been orchestrated._

"And thirdly, your comment about 'pandering courtiers' was the last clue they needed to know exactly how to free Zi Rao: which was, as the strategists stipulate, to appeal to one of the courtiers' greed and bribe them into letting Zi Rao go free."

Lan Fan sighed. Ling could tell she wasn't impressed with the evidence either. But she was in no position to call out the fatuity of this entire setup. And it really seemed like a setup. The proofs were not substantial, but for some reason, everyone wanted to pin Zi Rao's escape on Lan Fan. She was an easy target. Not born of noble blood, yet important enough that this was actually causing a scandal. People found it delicious. And those frustrated with the rebellion could use her as a scapegoat.

"I do not refute that there are descriptions that some people might interpret in a way I did not intend," Lan Fan said, trying to defend herself. "There could have been a bribed noble, or there could not have been. I would like to request evidence of this."

Silence enveloped the room.

Xiang cleared his throat in a haughty way. "There are thirty-seven Families currently represented at court. Obviously it will take a while to conduct a proper investigation of all these nobles, and it is quite unseemly to demand such a thing while our investigation has not finished yet."

Ling decided this was his chance to put his plan to motion. "On the contrary," he spoke up. "I would personally like to propose that there _is_ a noble who has been technically bribed into freeing Zi Rao."

The council looked at him as if he had just turned into Greed. Even the Master of Domestic Affairs stared backed at him with curiosity.

"Could one of you lovely, straight-backed guards send for Dan Fung?" Ling ordered one of guards by the wall. When he had exited the room, one of the councilors stood up.

"What is the meaning of this, Your Majesty? Dan Fung is a respectable young man!"

"Ah, my High Guard is a respectable young woman as well, and none of you would have thought she was capable of treason until recently. Until of course, this – " _dismal,_ Ling thought," – evidence seemed to show otherwise."

When the door opened once again, there was not only one guard who came in, but _three_. All three were struggling to drag in Dan Fung. The councilors were shocked.

"What is happening?" Ling demanded.

"Your Majesty!" the guard whom he had sent exclaimed, nearly avoiding a punch to the gut. "We found him trying to run away."

"Ah."

Seeming to realize that it was rather too late to resist, Dan Fung went limp in their arms, and he was deposited at the foot of the dais on his knees.

"Dan Fung, why the early leave? I thought you were honoured to go to the congregation in a month?" Ling's question was met with silence.

Ling looked up at the council, then at Lan Fan, and finally at the Master of War. "No explanation? Then perhaps I can give you one. You see, you are all correct that Fangzhi is related to the rebels. But he is not an ally. Actually, it turns out he was a spy trying to solve how the rebels managed to become so powerful this past year or so."

Lan Fan gave him a curious frown. He could almost hear her thoughts. _Where are you going with this?_

Ling stretched his hand out to the Master of Domestic Affairs. "Please pass those letters to me. Thank you. Now, here I will tell you all the reasons I believe this. Why don't you all play along with me? Let's allow ourselves to get rapt up in this story:

"Fangzhi first appeared to Lan Fan as someone from the village near the badlands. Here, it seems as if he was investigating the raids that the rebels were conducting on those poor villagers. When the attacks came, he had gotten caught up. What he discovered after in that village is rather interesting.

"Heartache Balm." Ling looked meaningfully at Dan, who squeezed his eyes shut, as if he knew now that his fate was sealed.

"There were leaves found there. General Hoang could attest to this. The problem though is that Heartache Balm did not grow there. So someone must have brought those in during the attack. And like anyone with a quick wit, he's bound to know that one of the places that grows Heartache Balm is none other than the Fung farms in the west."

"This was your fault!" Dan exploded in a sudden outburst. "You imposed all those taxes and controlled the distribution of Heartache Balm that my family became poor! Only the rebels bought large quantities from us!"

Ling nodded. "So it is. The rebels use the narcotic version of the plant to bribe people and make them easier to manipulate. They have high demand of it. Your family needed the money. And when Zi Rao was captured, it seemed as if the rebellion would actually be defeated. You couldn't allow that to happen. Your family's business depended on it.

And so _you_ helped Zi Rao escape. You fed the guard Heartache Balm yourself, and while he was under the effects of the drug, you spirited Zi Rao away."

Dan Fung gave him a seething glare that said it wasn't only out of desperation that he had done this, but also out of a strong loathing against Ling and what he had done two years ago. But it was also a glare that confirmed Ling's accusations.

"Take him away!" the Master of Domestic affairs signaled to the three guards again. "He will be questioned later."

The room descended into silence again. The councilors, especially Xiang, all looked like they did not know what to make of this situation. Lan Fan looked as if she was trying really hard either not to cry or not to laugh.

"Well," Ling said as he plopped himself back down on the throne. "That cleared up a lot of things, didn't it? I suppose it is now safe to say that the verdict against Lan Fan is that she is innocent!" he declared.

"Y-your Majesty!" one of the councilors spoke up. "What about this Fangzhi? How did you know about this 'story' you just told us?"

Ling smiled. "Like my amazing strategists, I took some time analyzing those letters. Did none of you catch his movement? That he went from the badlands to the capital and then to the west? There was _obviously_ a connection!" There wasn't really. Ling made up the story in accordance to what he suspected really happened and what Fangzhi had written. But hey. If the strategists could make up their own conclusions just by randomly rolling dices and seeing which sentences they landed on, then Ling could also derive his own magical conclusions. The only difference was that Ling actually had additional evidence.

He continued, "From there it was not difficult to put together the puzzle pieces. The man guarding Zi Rao had traces of Heartache Balm in his body. The producers of Heartache Balm are mostly in the Fung province. And we have a Fung prodigy in alkahestry right in court. Fangzhi's letters gave me an epiphany! As a matter of fact, I would like to personally thank Lan Fan for her correspondence with Fangzhi, whose letters were integral to my enlightenment. She is not a traitor or a criminal at all!"

"And this Fangzhi? Can we ensure that he really was trying to investigate the rebellion?"

"I suppose we should question him," Ling suggested. "Once we find him."

He gave Lan Fan a broad smile.

-o-

Lan Fan was returned to her rooms. The Emperor had her name cleared officially that afternoon. Now she was heralded as a pseudo-hero, integral to solving of the mystery of Zi Rao's escape. How tides turned.

Now the Master of Domestic affairs would be questioning Dan Fung to find out where Zi Rao and the other rebels were. It wouldn't be long now. Everyone predicted that they would be found soon enough. The Fung Family too would be questioned.

Lan Fan had just finished taking a rather long and self-indulgent bath. She hadn't been allowed to bathe while she was imprisoned. She'd washed a couple of times from a basin, but that was it. She was so glad she didn't reek anymore. She sat on her bed, stretching out the tight muscles on her shoulder. She had been really tense this past week.

It had been hours after the trial, and she couldn't believe what the Emperor had done to convince the council of her innocence. She couldn't help the fond smile that came on her lips. She always believed the Emperor to be loyal and clever. Why was she even surprised now? The only thing she was disappointed about was that she didn't get to play a bigger part in her own release. She shouldn't have burdened the Emperor like that.

There was a clattering from behind her, and by the time she turned around, the Emperor himself emerged from the door that led to a hidden corridor that connected her room to his. His chi was muted. No wonder she didn't feel him coming.

Lan Fan stood up and bowed. He smiled back softly.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered. She needed to thank him after all.

But a few seconds ticked by and her lord seemed at a loss for words. She realized belatedly that perhaps he wasn't here to talk about the trial after all, but about... the thing he confessed in her cell. He looked out of her window, before facing her.

"You know, I remember when I was a young boy and my mother told me that she believed I would be something other Emperors had never been," he began. "That I would be great and kind."

Lan Fan blinked.

"What I'm trying to say is... growing up with you, I have always been reminded by my mother that I hold so much power. And it's true. I would tell you to steal rice cakes from the kitchen, and you would. Just because I asked you to. I didn't know the gravity of my power until we went to Amestris.

"I know it's no excuse for deceiving you. I wanted you to talk to me like friends do, but I could never ask it of you, because I know you would only be doing it because I asked. And that's not what it means to be friends. I didn't know what else to do, other than pretend to be someone else. It's not an excuse, I know. I didn't have to do it. I just couldn't resist."

"Your Majesty..."

"Would you not call me Ling?" he asked softly, sadly.

Lan Fan paused.

"You know, friendship isn't a one-way street. I could be your friend too," he offered. "I'd be a good friend."

"I know that, because you've always been one," Lan Fan said, and she went closer to him. "Your Majesty, when I follow your orders or when I answer your questions, it's not because I feel compelled to. It's because I want to. In all my time serving you, you had never asked me to do something I didn't want. Except, of course, when you told me to take time-off, but I see no selfishness in that. Don't you think friends ask each other favours too?"

Ling chuckled. "I just couldn't tell, sometimes, because you're always so obedient. And I was over-analyzing things, thinking that you would only tell me things I want to hear. I was so concerned about myself that I didn't give you enough credit." He laughed, and combed back his untied hair with his fingers. "I'm such a fool. I am so sorry for my deception."

"I know you are," Lan Fan said. Truly, she also felt like such a big fool for falling for the Emperor's trick. She had mulled over it while she was still imprisoned. "But I forgive you."

Ling's eyes snapped to hers. _'I forgive you_ ' was not a statement that subordinates said to their betters. Forgiveness was not in their place to give, and no self-respecting high-ranked man or woman would even request it from those beneath them. Lan Fan gave him a shy grin.

"Come here you," Ling grabbed her arm and pulled her in a warm embrace not unlike the one he gave her when he visited her in prison. "I am such a pig-headed idiot."

When he released her, he looked much more energized and refreshed. "So... how about it? Will you call me Ling?"

"Eh..." Lan Fan thought for a few seconds. "In private."

Ling seemed to give it a thought, and seemed to agree it would be a stretch of propriety if she did so at any other time. "Fair enough."

"I could also call you Fangzhi," she teased.

"Oh dear lord, please don't!"

Lan Fan giggled. "What happens to him now?"

"I will have to make sure nobody catches him. He's not real, so of course nobody really can, but if some people can blame you for treason, who knows what kind of things they'll be convinced they'll find? No, I will just have to make sure he becomes some kind of urban legend."

Lan Fan nodded. She moved to a table and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. "I think I can help with that," she told him.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This will be a short story. Three chapters at most. Hope some of you like it!


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